


must be good for something

by deluxemycroft



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asgardian Culture (Marvel), Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Broken Bones, Broken Neck, Cannibalism, Cannibalism Play, Chubby Thor (Marvel), Come Marking, Comeplay, Corpse Desecration, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fat Thor, Feeding Kink, Hair Brushing, M/M, Masturbation, Mutilation, Necrophilia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rape/Non-con Elements, Spit As Lube, Talking To Dead People, Unrealistic Sex, Unsafe Sex, dialogue? who needs it?, i cannot express how much this is thor having sex with his dead brother, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluxemycroft/pseuds/deluxemycroft
Summary: Three years after Thanos killed his brother, Thor goes to the stars to find his brother and give him the rest he deserves. Things don't quite go according to plan.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	must be good for something

**Author's Note:**

> in this fic, asgardians believe that their souls cannot travel to the next plane (ie Helheim or Valhalla) unless their body is properly disposed of. this means that if, for example, a character is killed and then their body is left and not properly disposed of, their soul cannot move on. this is relevant but not really why you're here.
> 
> not beta read, just read over by me.
> 
> and for the love of god read the warnings

It takes Thor three years to build up the courage. He has all the power of the Bifrost and the storm, yet he finds that he has no strength for the search. But he wakes up one morning and the sun shines in his eyes and he decides there is no more time for waiting. Thor is tired, beyond tired, has been tired every single day for three years, but he also knows that the longer he waits, the more difficult the search, and three years is long enough.

So he leaves. He tells Valkyrie he hopes he will return soon, and whatever she sees on his face prompts her to wish him luck and not ask where he is headed. But he tells her that if he does not return in a year that she is to take up his mantle, and she gives him a look as if she will not wait a year. He smiles at her, tries not to think about the way she must see him, and he leaves.

He is still strong—will always be strong, for he is Thor—but Stormbreaker feels heavy in his grasp. He walks to the highest point of New Asgard and looks down over the small village of his people, over all that is left of Asgard, all that is left of his heritage and his history and his life.

He hopes he will return, finds he does not particularly care if he does not.

The Bifrost feels like a welcome friend, and the journey to the place where his life ended is short. He needs to breathe eventually but can hold his breath for a very long time, so he does not spell himself to be safe in the great empty expanse of space. He finds a large rock and stands on it, looking around at the great nothing around him. It is cold and it is empty and he is in the exact place Thanos killed his brother three years ago. 

There is nothing left of the ship, which does not surprise him. He is going to have to find it. There is no air around him and he cannot summon a storm from nothing, but the lightning is within him and he can cloak himself in it to keep himself from freezing to death. He does not let himself think of what a fruitless search this must be and instead picks a direction and leaps high up and flies off. The cold expanse of space feels like an embrace as he soars through it.

Everything in space moves, albeit slowly. There is nothing static, nothing left behind, nothing that stays still. Thor is sure there is some mathematical equation that can calculate the velocity of items in space, that can estimate the location of the remains of the Statesman, but he does not know it, which means he must guess. So he flies and he searches.

It takes him a month to find the first remains of the Statesman. There are bodies, frozen in terror, and Thor drops to the nearest piece of debris and mourns for each and every one of them that he finds. There are so many. He knows some of them, recognizes most, and not one of them deserves the fate they were wrought. But none of them are his brother, so he continues on.

It is cold work. It is hard work. He finds parts of the Statesman scattered all throughout the galaxy, and he takes time to think about the distress call they had sent out, wonders how far it reached, wonders about all the ears that heard it, wonders if anyone came to help, only to find a graveyard. He takes time to think about the destruction of his people and his home, about how all is left of Asgard, the High Seat of the Nine Realms, home of the Gods, is one small town on Midgard.

He doesn’t quite know how to measure the passage of time when there is no sun or light, other than once per week he must use the Bifrost to take him somewhere where he can breathe, but he thinks it takes him another month to find Loki.

His brother is still dead, and his corpse is laying on a piece of the ship. He is resting on his back and his lovely green eyes are still open, filmed over, and he looks the same as if Thor was dragged away from him yesterday. Thor crumples to his knees, drops Stormbreaker, and even though there is no sound in space, he lets out a great cry of grief. Loki’s body is stiff and frozen and he is most assuredly a corpse. There is no coming back from this. Thor cradles him gently, cards a shaking hand through his hair, sobs into his chest.

After Thanos killed Loki and released Thor to live alone, he crawled to his brother’s body and held him close and thought: _If I am to die, at least I will die alongside my brother._

It has been three years since he last thought that, and then he left Loki alone out in the endless expanse of space. He summons Stormbreaker and keeps Loki close and the Bifrost opens, and Thor does not look back at the graveyard of his people that he leaves behind.

There are small, empty planes in the Nine Realms. They are between realms and they are generally flat places, with various grasses or small trees, and they are places of peace. Most of them do not even have names. There is one that Loki and Thor found when they were young, and Thor built a small house in the small forest on one end of the plane, and that is where he takes his brother. He takes in a great heaving gasp of air as he pushes the cabin door open, gently lowering Loki’s stiff corpse to the small bed in the corner. He sets Stormbreaker down and gets to work cleaning the cabin—Loki has always hated dust—but when he finishes wiping everything down and opening the small window and finding the small stream on the other side of the neutral plane to fill up his water bladder, he stands in the doorway and looks at Loki’s corpse.

He is faced with the reality that now that he has found his brother, he does not quite know what to do with him.

God-flesh does not rot. Loki will stay in the same state he is in for eternity. That is why they burn their dead or why they fade to golden dust when they die; otherwise they will achieve no rest for their tired bodies. Now that he is out of space, Loki’s body is beginning to soften and unfreeze and sink into the bed, and Thor thinks that he must be uncomfortable and gently unbuckles his boots and pulls off his cape and, with shaking hands, removes his brother’s tunic. There, he thinks. Now his brother will be comfortable.

Every brush of his fingers against cold flesh is a stark reminder that no blood flows through Loki’s veins, that he will never live or breathe again. Thor gently closes Loki’s eyes and steps back, and he could almost convince himself that Loki is simply asleep. He merely does not look at the static state of his chest and he stumbles back, drops back into the lone chair, and buries his head in his hands.

What is he _doing?_ He needs to build a pyre and burn his brother, let his soul rest. But the thought of watching Loki turn to ash and smoke makes him nauseous; he twists his fingers into his long hair and pulls, as if the pain can clear his mind, but all it does it make him think about Loki’s hair and how dirty it must be and he thinks he should brush it and clean it. Regardless of what he does with his brother, he cannot send him into Hel or Valhalla with dirty hair. But can he truly, ethically send Loki’s soul into the next life if Thor does not know where he is headed? Surely it would be better for Loki to stay in purgatory if Hel is his next stop.

Regardless, Thor pushes to his feet, opens the pack he had on his belt, and digs out a hairbrush. He drags the chair over and gently lifts Loki’s head, gagging at the sickly loll of his head from his broken neck, and then all he hears is the gentle sound of the hairbrush combing his hair. There is a bit of wind outside, and it sweeps in through the open door and window and cools the back of Thor’s neck as he focuses on taking care of his brother.

He had never been allowed this while Loki lived. Hair has always been very important in Asgardian culture, and brushing it was only for parents and, then later in life, lovers. Thor had never even thought to ask; even when they were young, Loki was so prickly and antagonistic that he would never have trusted Thor with his hair. Perhaps it was smart, as Thor can imagine his younger self cutting Loki’s hair as an ill-advised prank. So when he brushes Loki’s hair, it feels like an honor, even in death.

Loki’s hair is heavy but so very fine, and as his body slowly unfreezes from the depths of space, the oils in his hair also begin to absorb into Thor’s fingers. His skin softens and he leans forward, pushing his nose into Loki’s hair, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the familiar smell. Somehow his brother still smells of seidr, of the air after the rain, of wildflowers. He finds himself crying into Loki’s hair, wetting his skin with tears, and Thor drags one hand down his face and scrubs at his eyes, dropping the brush down to the bed as he buries his head in his hands, trying to regain his breath.

There is no sound other than the breeze and his own ragged breathing. He heaves to his feet, does not look at his brother as he rushes out of the cabin. He runs out of the trees and to the clear open space and falls to his knees and he screams.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Perhaps when he touched Loki, his touch would bring him back to life? Yet his brother is still dead, and there is nothing of him left. Thor already knows that no healing seidr will work on him, that only the most powerful necromancers could bring back someone who died three years ago, and he would not even know where to begin. His brother is dead and Thor could not save him, and now he cannot bring him back.

He has failed. He failed when he could not kill Thanos the first time and he failed when Thanos Snapped and he has failed his citizens and his friends and most of all, he has failed his brother.

It takes awhile for his breathing to regulate and calm. He stands up, brushes off his clothes, looks up to the darkening sky above, and thinks about food.

He hasn’t eaten in two months. He grew accustomed to eating daily during the past few years, and now his stomach is suddenly clawing with hunger. There are no animals on the plane, so he calls Stormbreaker and readies himself to open the Bifrost, but then fear strikes him through the heart.

Loki. What if something happens to him? How can Thor leave him unguarded, even if for only a few minutes? What if someone followed Thor here and is lying in wait to steal his brother’s corpse?

He spins around, eyes narrowed, looking out over the sparse trees and then up to the sky overhead. He doesn’t see anyone but they could be hiding, and he rushes back to the small cabin, letting out a sigh of relief to see his brother still on the bed. He carefully shuts the singular window and then steps outside to shut the cabin door, fortifying the cabin with his magic, but when he raises Stormbreaker to open the Bifrost, he hesitates again. He only just found his brother, can he truly leave him so soon? What would Loki think of him, leaving him behind? He cannot bear to abandon his brother yet again.

But he hungers. His belly is empty and his mouth waters at the thought of food. But how can he eat if he does not leave? 

Unbidden, his thoughts turn to Loki.

Bodies are meat, after all.

He grows so horrified at the thought that he opens the Bifrost without thinking of it and it takes him far away. He lands in Alfheim, deep in the woods, and it does not take him very long at all to find an Alf deer and with one great swing of his axe, he cuts the beast’s head off and then takes the body back to the neutral plane. He rushes to the cabin and wilts in relief at seeing Loki’s body still on the bed, and then he busies himself with starting a fire. He spears chunks of meat and cooks them and thinks about how Loki would complain about the food, about how he would tell Thor not to eat so much like a brute, how he would get spots of grease on his cheeks and he would let Thor reach over to clean them. He thinks about his brother, who is well and truly lost to him, and even as his body aches with hunger, he cannot bear to eat.

He tries to force himself, but his jaw does not wish to chew and his mouth does not wish to work, and he ends up spitting the meat out onto the ground and then throwing it deep into the woods. He glares at the corpse of the deer and then holds his hand out for Stormbreaker and when the axe slams into his palm, he gets to his feet and hacks the animal to pieces before striking them with lightning until the chunks are no more than smoking, charred bits. Breathing heavily, Thor slams the cabin door open and stands in the doorway, looking at his brother’s body on the small bed.

He drops Stormbreaker to the floor of the cabin and kneels next to the bed, clasps Loki’s cold, limp hand in both of his, and leans his head on Loki’s sunken stomach.

“Brother,” he whispers, desperate. The only sound in the room is the very faint flutter from Thor blinking, his eyelashes catching against Loki’s skin. Loki’s dirty skin, Thor notices. His brother is still dirty from when Thanos killed him, and Thor’s face twists in disgust. His brother has always been so fastidious and Thor cannot send him into his next life covered in grime. He carefully disrobes his brother until he lies nude on the bed, and unlike all of the other times Thor has seen his brother naked, this time he does not politely avert his eyes.

His brother is so lovely. He is slender, skinnier than Thor would like, and his fair skin hides trim muscle. Thor finds the cloth he used to clean the cabin and takes it outside to run through the small stream, and then he brings it back to gently run over Loki’s body. He carefully cleans grime and grease and smoke from Loki’s pale body, gentle as he can be even with his brute strength. Loki always used to make fun of him because Thor could never be delicate, but he finds that he could not be rough with Loki’s body even if he was forced.

He runs the cloth over Loki’s face, over the petal-soft skin of his eyelids, over his sharp nose, and Thor’s fingers hesitate over his lips. He tells himself that Loki always liked having a clean mouth and gently slips his thumb in between Loki’s slack lips, feels the dryness of his limp tongue, the softness of the inside of his cheeks, the way his thumbnail taps against Loki’s strong teeth. If he moves too quickly, Loki’s head lolls on his broken neck, but Thor brings up his other hand to wrap it around his neck to keep his head steady. He feels a bit hazy, as if stuck inside himself and watching himself violate Loki’s body, but he cannot seem to stop. He forgets the wash cloth as he slides Loki’s jaw open further and slides in two fingers, exploring every single bit of his mouth. He learns what the skin is like under Loki’s tongue, finds a couple of small chips in his molars, feels the shape of his jaw in the pocket between his gums and cheek.

His cock suddenly throbs in his trousers and the shock of it has Thor throwing himself back from the bed and his brother, breathing heavily. Loki’s head slumps unnaturally to the side, mouth hanging open, and Thor grimaces, leans forward to put him to rights, closing his mouth and setting his head back on straight. He touches his brother brusquely and quickly, not lingering on the softness of his skin, and when Thor leans back again, he finds his eyes drawn to Loki’s hips and groin.

His mouth waters as he looks at the long length of Loki’s legs, the strength of his thighs, the elegance in his shins and knees and ankles. Slowly, as if worried someone will catch him, Thor picks up the wash cloth again and begins to wash his brother’s feet. His brother’s skin is cold and the difference between Thor’s warm skin and Loki’s is stark, but his brother has never been this pliable, never been this agreeable, and Thor drops his face to Loki’s foot and holds it close. He looks up to see Loki’s cock lying against his thigh, and then beneath it Loki’s soft sack, and down below...Thor knows what is down there. He’s dreamt about it often enough.

His hands shake as he lowers Loki’s legs back down and then spreads them apart, bending the knees to open his cheeks, and there is the smallest wink of Loki’s hole. He almost cannot believe what he’s doing as Thor reaches to take the weight of Loki’s cock in his hand. He gently cleans it with the washcloth, even though it is not dirty, and he memorizes the feel of it, slips a finger into his foreskin, finds the ridge under the head, wonders if there once had been a sensitive vein that would’ve made Loki tremble if he ran his tongue over it.

Loki’s testicles are pleasantly heavy. Thor leans forward to smell them, eyes fluttering shut when he smells skin and musty salt and then he does not stop himself when his mouth opens to suck one in. He holds his free hand up to his own cock and grinds into his palm, sucking gently on Loki’s testicle, tasting the salt of his precious brother’s skin. He lets it fall out of his mouth and nuzzles at the soft skin between Loki’s cock and testicles and then presses a kiss there, slides his lips and tongue up the cold length of Loki’s cock, takes the head in his mouth and slips his tongue under the foreskin. His brother tastes heavenly, even as there is no response from his corpse, and when Thor finally pulls back, he’s trembling and taking in deep, heaving gasps of air, and he finally splits open his trousers and arches over Loki’s body and strips his cock until he’s coming in spurts over his brother, hot come landing on Loki’s cool skin. Sparkles shoot through his blood and he shudders out an orgasm, breathing out Loki’s name like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Thor gasps out, breathing heavily, and he reaches out to slide his fingers through his own spend. He takes up a fingerful to Loki’s mouth and slides it over his lax lips and then down over his limp tongue, and his cock tries valiantly to rise again, overstimulation shivering through his body. “Loki,” he whispers, sliding his hands over his brother’s trim hips, then down past his testicles and to his hole. He wonders how sensitive Loki was in life, if he would be jumping and gasping, if his thin body could even take the massive, thick length of Thor’s cock, and when one finger sinks easily into Loki’s lax, cold body, Thor squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward to bite at Loki’s thigh.

His brother’s skin tastes like heaven. He wants to dig his teeth in, wants to know what his muscles taste like, wants his hunger to be sated by his brother’s body, but Thor thinks that there is a line and he mustn't cross it. But surely another finger will do no harm, and Loki’s body seems so willing, so Thor slides in another. He does not want to hurt his brother so he twists Loki’s body around on the bed so that his closest thigh is over Thor’s shoulder and his hole is right in front of Thor’s face from where he’s sitting on the floor next to the bed. He leans forward and spits into Loki’s hole, shivering at the thought of doing that when Loki was alive, if Loki would’ve been aroused by the degradation or would’ve been disgusted. He imagines Loki’s cock hard against his thigh, hips twitching with restraint as Thor fucks him with his fingers, and for a moment he does not imagine how surely disgusted Loki would be, and that is what causes him to freeze in place.

He can only imagine the look on Loki’s face if he saw what Thor was doing to his body. Not only had Thanos disrespected him so greatly in murdering him, but now Thor is desecrating his body. He carefully pulls his fingers out of Loki’s hole, not wishing to hurt him, and, face flushed with shame, Thor sets his brother to rights, carefully on the bed. Thor’s spend shines out on his skin and he reaches up with the washcloth to wipe him clean, wipe Thor’s mark from his skin. The spot where Thor bit him is indented, and as Thor runs his fingers over the spot, he can feel the marks of his own teeth. His spit shines on Loki’s cock as it dries and then Thor looks back up to Loki’s mouth.

He gets to his feet and turns away from Loki before he can convince himself to straddle his brother’s body and slide his cock into that lax mouth. He puts himself to rights, hands shaking, and thinks about food again.

His body hungers but his mind is resistant to the idea of leaving Loki to find food again, especially as his last hunt went so poorly in terms of actually eating the food. Perhaps he should lay down next to Loki’s body and let hunger take him, but then the thought of nourishing himself on Loki’s body comes to mind and he squeezes his eyes shut. He could keep himself alive for years on the meat on Loki’s body. Surely what higher honor than for Loki to be what keeps his brother living?

But cannibalism is...there are very few worse things he could do. Feasting on his brother’s corpse would surely send him to Hel, no matter the circumstances of his inevitable death. There would be no measure of good deeds to counterbalance the act of sinking his teeth into cold flesh and tearing away bites of muscle and chewing and swallowing his brother down. Surely that would be the worst act he could commit. Surely there could be nothing worse.

If he ate his brother, then what was stopping him from fucking him?

Thor stumbles out of the cabin, falls to his knees, thinks he should vomit at the thought. He thinks he should be disgusted with himself, thinks he should not feel the ache of his stomach, thinks his mouth should not water with the memory of Loki’s skin upon his tongue.

If he eats his brother, if he consumes him, if he takes all of Loki inside of him, then Loki will be safe. If there is no body left for someone to find, and Thor breaks and burns his bones, then there can be no one who would desecrate his corpse. If Thor does this, then he does it in honor of Loki, and the fact that his gut clenches and trembles at the thought of spearing his corpse with his cock only spurs him on, resolves his mind.

He calls Stormbreaker to him and goes back inside. The axe is sharp, wickedly so, and it takes no time at all to turn his brother over onto his side and slice thin bits of skin and meat from under his thighs. Thor licks over the exposed muscle and wishes it was bloodier, as he can only imagine what Loki’s blood would taste like—someone so filled with seidr and magic and tricks would have blood like none other, he is sure of it—and then he goes outside to start another fire, creating a small grid with green sticks to cook Loki’s skin and thin bits of muscle over the small fire. The meat crisps up and crackles over the fire, curling in at the edges, and Thor does not wait for it to cool as he takes his first bite.

Loki tastes like nothing else Thor has eaten in his life. He is not overpowering, but he is delicate on the tongue and when Thor swallows him down, he warms Thor’s stomach like nothing else. He eats the rest of the meat in a frenzy, not even waiting for the last few slices to cook, frantically swallowing his brother down, and when he is finished, Thor sags back against the cabin wall and brings his hand down to his cock and quickly strokes himself to orgasm again, spurting thin streaks over his rounded stomach, and he lets his eyes flutter shut and exhaustion overtake him.

When he opens his eyes again, it is night and the small fire is long out. He still feels warm from Loki’s meat inside his stomach and he cups his rounded, distended belly in one hand as he levers himself to his feet. He kicks his trousers and boots off so he’s fully naked and he stands underneath the starlight, exposed to whoever would see. But he does not particularly care, and Thor goes back into the small cabin and shuts the door behind him. He moves Loki over in the small bed and carefully joins him, laying on his side so he’s pressed up against Loki. He leans forward to press his face into Loki’s mussed hair, smoothing it down with his hand, and he ruts his half-hard cock against Loki’s bare thigh, the bed groaning between their combined weight.

His cock hardens further, jutting out from his hips, and he finds the angle that has it sliding along Loki’s own limp cock. Thor shudders at the sensation, reaching down to take both of them in hand, cold against heat, hardness against softness, puffing out breath over Loki’s lax, closed-off face as his hips thrust hard enough to hit the bed against the wall. Loki’s corpse rocks against him, pliable and loose, and when Thor comes, he bites down hard on the back of Loki’s broken neck and keens. Warmth spirals out from his belly as he thrusts helplessly into his fist, coating Loki’s cock in come, eyes clenched shut and digging his teeth down into Loki’s skin so hard he breaks it.

Panting, he slowly loosens his teeth from Loki’s neck and unclenches his fist, running his come-wet fingers over his oversensitive cock, gasping as shocks of sensation shoot up his spine. Loki’s body leans against him and Thor mutters an apology under his breath, leaning his brother back against the wall as he rolls off the bed to grab the wash cloth. He wipes himself clean and then turns back to see Loki bent forward, one of his legs bent and revealing the cuts on the back of his thighs. Thor’s breath catches in his chest and his stomach growls again in hunger. He almost summons Stormbreaker and then chastises himself, telling him he needs to make Loki last, that to properly honor him he must take his time.

He cleans himself and then rejoins his brother in bed, shifting his body so that it is leaning up against Thor’s side, pleasantly cool to the touch, and Thor carefully wraps his arms around his brother as he gently falls asleep, his heart at peace for the first time in three years. He does not dream, which comes as a relief.

When he wakes, he finds his arms empty, and Thor sits up hurriedly, calling for his brother, only to find his body collapsed in a heap on the floor off the side of the bed. Thor swears and steps over him before gently picking him back up and checking him over for damage. To his relief, there is none, and Loki sags in his grasp and Thor gently puts him back into bed. He must’ve accidentally tossed his brother to the floor in his sleep, which sickens him. He spends the next two days building a flat cot from the trees outside, and he gently lays Loki to rest on it when it is finally complete.

When he fucks his brother for the first time, he goes slowly and cautiously. Loki’s skin does not hold a stretch and is not as pliant as living skin, but his body seems to suck Thor in as if it knows he belongs inside of him. He has to be gentle, as he can’t bear to hurt his brother, and the coolness of his skin and the lack of any response make it incredibly obvious that he is fucking a dead person, which somehow only serves to heighten his desire and make him fuck harder. He is so careful not to tear anything, but he lets himself dig his nails into Loki’s skin and lets himself bite chunks out of Loki’s shoulders and swallow down the cold, sodden meat, and lets himself sparkle lightning over his arms and fingers and singe the end of Loki’s hair.

Thor wonders what kind of bed partner Loki was in life, if he enjoyed being fucked—he must’ve, surely, as his body, even in death, seems made for it—and if he was as willing as his body is. His body never goes stiff, even though Thor thinks he would enjoy it, and he is still a god, which means he never smells sour or off. His body stays the same as it did the day Thanos kills him, other than the parts Thor takes from him. His skin is plastic and unyielding, but Thor manages to slide his fingers inside of him and take and take and take. He has never known his brother to be so giving, and it feels honorable to have his brother be that which feeds him. He lives solely off his brother’s flesh and the water he finds on the plane, and he fucks his brother many times per day. He has never been so constantly ready for sex; even the sight of his brother’s pale skin will get him half hard, and all he has to do is slide Loki’s pliant, dry mouth open and seat his cock inside the tight expanse of his dry throat to bring him relief.

His favorite thing is to take Loki outside and seat his brother in his lap while he cuts bits of meat off him and cook. He spears Loki with his cock and wields Stormbreaker with finesse and cuts his brother as kindly and delicately as he is able. He feasts on his flesh while he fucks it. Sometimes he holds a burning stick to his brother’s skin and warms him a bit before he slides inside him, but Thor finds that less enjoyable than taking his pleasure from his cold, lifeless body.

Sometimes he wishes his brother would rot, so he could see him through all life stages, see the holes the maggots and bugs would chew in him, see the way his bones would yellow with age, but this is enough. It is good. 

The first time he cuts into bone is not a good one. He has noticed both Loki getting lighter and himself getting heavier. All he does, after all, is eat and fuck. But Stormbreaker digs into bone and Thor gasps, reassuring Loki he did not mean to hurt him, and he carefully digs the axe out of his femur and then inspects it for damage. It will not heal, of course, but it makes Thor take stock: he must be even more careful. He could not bear if he broke any more of Loki’s bones. His brother is so precious and dear to him. He weeps over Loki’s body and promises him he will be more careful in the future, and then when he fucks him that night, he goes slowly and tries to make it last.

There are no seasons on the small neutral plane in the middle of the Nine Realms. There is barely a night and day; Thor has no idea of how long they last for, but he knows each are long. He often goes to sleep when it is night and when he wakes, it is still dark. He had no intention of keeping track of the time, but he loses even more of it when he loses himself in Loki. His brother has never been so welcoming, so pliant, so accepting of Thor and his needs. Sometimes he feels guilty, for Loki would surely never let Thor fist him or slide Stormbreaker’s shaft inside of him or spend many days smoothing down a tree branch to slide inside his hole to try and keep him stretched if he still lived. His brother was always so proper and stiff and restrained; Thor cannot imagine he would’ve allowed many of the things Thor does to his body. But he hopes that he brings his brother’s spirit pleasure, that he can show him that if they live their next lives together that Thor can take care of him and fuck him like he needs.

He eats Loki’s back down to the bone first. He spends many days cutting long strips of meat from the strong muscles of Loki’s back and soon finds that he has dug too fast and too deep, for Loki’s back is only bone. At first it terrifies him that he has eaten so much of his brother, that he is fading his brother from the world, but then he bends his brother over the table and looks down at his visible vertebrae and rib bones and he comes faster and harder than he has in months.

Then he eats down around the front of Loki’s pelvis, cutting around his cock and balls until they hang by bits of skin and tendons, nuzzling against them as he cuts down to the bone. He suckles on Loki’s cock as he cuts away the meat of his feet and legs, keeping just enough meat to keep his bones from falling apart, and Thor saves his hole and face for last.

It takes him many years to eat all of Loki. He eats small amounts each day, and as Loki is an Aesir, even though he is thin and slender, he is composed of great amounts of dense muscle. Thor eats his face last, gently using Stormbreaker to slide his face off the muscles and fat of his face, which he then carefully cuts away from the bone, and he cooks his brother’s face on a carefully woven grid of green branches. Then he wraps the hot, seared skin of Loki’s face around his cock and fucks into it and eats it after he comes all over it.

He has gained all of Loki’s weight. He rarely moves and when he does, it is a great amount of work. When he slides his cock over Loki’s skull and the broken bones of his neck and down over his ribs and to his thin pelvis, he can barely see it over the great swell of his belly. When all of Loki is gone and all that remains of him is the skeleton on the small cot he made for him so long ago, Thor levers himself to the bed and lets out a great sigh of relief. He rubs his hand over his great belly and for the first time in a very long time, does not feel hungry. His precious brother has fed him and kept him healthy and alive for so many years, and Thor is so grateful that he weeps.

It takes him a few day-night cycles to decide what he must do. It feels as if a haze has lifted from his mind and he suddenly remembers his duties on Midgard, the Avengers he abandoned, the citizens of New Asgard, but they pale in comparison to the skeleton that waits for him. He had peeled Loki’s hair off his skull and plaited it into a long rope, which he runs his fingers over as he thinks. He must pay respects to his brother, he decides. He should burn him.

But the thought of never seeing his brother again, even as bones, makes him sick. Thor does not think he could manage if he had nothing left. But he also knows that for Loki to truly rest, whatever is left of him must be burnt. He surely cannot leave his brother’s bones here; what if, in many hundreds or thousands of years, someone stopped by this plane and found his bones and did not know who they belonged to? What if they disrespected his brother and tossed his bones off into space and Loki never knew peace? Thor could not live with himself if that was Loki’s fate. But he also knows he cannot take a pile of bones and a plait of black hair back to New Asgard. Even if he hides them, the chance of someone finding them is too great, and he could not bear to see someone else’s hands on his precious brother.

So he either stays here and dies alongside Loki, or he burns his brother and gives him the peace he so deserves. He decides he must burn his brother, but the decision is easier than the doing, so it takes him a long time to set up the pyre and even longer to build up the courage to take Loki out, one bone at a time, to set him gently upon the pyre.

He leaves his skull for last. Thor sits with it in his hands for a long time, tells Loki everything he has ever wanted to say, weeps on his skull and promises him that he will be at peace. If Loki is not at peace, then Thor will go to Hel himself and rip him out and take him to Valhalla. His brother deserves no more than to have the highest seat of honor and to have everyone toast to him for all eternity. Thor cannot imagine anything less for his dearest brother.

He knows that he will never be ready. There will never come a day when he wakes up and knows that it is the right time to be alone again. But he makes himself take Loki’s skull out to the pyre and gently lay him to rest. He kisses every single one of Loki’s bones, cries over him and the sky above cries with him.

Then he calls for the storm and a great strike of lightning strikes the pyre, and Thor stumbles back with a gasp as flames leap up to the sky. He watches in astonishment as the fire catches and he almost rushes forward to pull Loki free, but something seems to stop him and he stands back and watches as the fire dances around his brother’s bones.

Something is wrong, he realizes as he stares at the way Loki’s bones char from the flames, and Thor wracks his mind. He saved every single bone, even the small ones of his feet and wrists and ankles, and he carefully put each and every one of them in the pyre. All he has left is his hair—

Thor rushes into the cabin and grabs the heavy black plait from his bed, presses one final kiss to his brother, and then tosses it onto the pyre. There is a sudden heat that makes him shield his eyes and when he looks again, he watches in astonishment as all of Loki’s bones collapse into golden dust, which then catches the wind and smoke and dances up to the sky. Thor smiles, tears welling up in his eyes, and he breathes a prayer for his brother, that he will find peace, and then his gut begins to churn.

Thor rests his hands on his stomach, on the great gut his own brother blessed him with, and he opens his mouth to release a massive burp of golden sparkles, which rise up to the sky as well.

“I love you,” Thor tells his brother’s soul. “More than anything in all the galaxy.”

He hopes only that Loki knows he could only speak the truth.

When he returns to New Asgard, it is much changed. But he does not pay it any mind, only making his slow way up the hill to his old house. It is the same as he left, but musty and covered in a great layer of dust, and he sets Stormbreaker down in its place next to the door as he looks around. He feels at peace for the first time in a long time, and he slowly sits down on the dusty couch, letting out a small sigh as he does.

“It’s been five years,” comes the Valkyrie’s voice from the doorway. Thor looks over to her, waves her inside. “I almost had you declared dead.” Her eyes go wide when she sees him, but she manages not to say anything about the round gut that settles on his thighs or his unkempt beard and hair. He only hopes she cannot read on his face what he spent the past five years doing, but how could she? She would not be able to guess if he gave her all eternity.

“I am here now,” Thor sighs out, rubbing one hand over his belly and the warmth of Loki’s meat inside of him. His cock twitches at the thought but he pays it no mind. “How long did you wait to declare yourself King?”

The Valkyrie smiles at him. “A week,” she laughs. Thor laughs with her and the smile feels strange as it stretches across his face. “You’re lucky I waited that long.”

“So I am,” he murmurs. “New Asgard seems to have thrived under your leadership. I commend you.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t need your approval,” she points out. “You were gone for five years.”

Thor merely shrugs. He had far bigger priorities to worry about.

“But thank you,” Valkyrie finally grinds out. “Now that you’re back, maybe you can get Captain America off my ass.”

Thor considers that. He thinks it might be nice to stretch his muscles again and help out Midgard as an Avenger. “Tomorrow,” he says. “I will find him tomorrow.” Valkyrie nods at him and Thor’s mouth creases in a smile. “Thank you,” he says, “for doing what I could not.”

She gives him a strange look and excuses herself, shutting the front door as she leaves. Thor drags over an ottoman and kicks his feet up and finds the TV remote on the arm of the couch where he left it five years ago. The TV, incredibly enough, turns right on and he finds a nature channel for background noise as he lifts up his belly and finally wraps his hand around his cock again. He fucks up slow into his fist, eyes falling shut, and when he comes, he gasps out Loki’s name. He keeps one hand on his stomach, where Loki’s meat keeps him warm and satisfied, and he smiles as he rubs his spend over his belly. Thor will keep his brother close for as long as he is able; he promised to keep him safe, after all, and Thor keeps his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed. please leave kudos and comments
> 
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> tumblr: @deluxemycroft  
> twitter: @whenhedied


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